


Closer

by speedgriffon



Series: It's Just a Flesh Wound | Rosie Sheridan Fics [14]
Category: Fallout 3
Genre: Butch’s Virginity is Questionable, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Lone Wanderer is a Virgin, Sexual Content, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:01:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24207859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speedgriffon/pseuds/speedgriffon
Summary: On a rainy night in Megaton, Rosie's nighttime visitor doesn't live up to her expectations. So, she decides to take matters into her own hands.
Relationships: Butch DeLoria/Female Lone Wanderer
Series: It's Just a Flesh Wound | Rosie Sheridan Fics [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1710277
Comments: 15
Kudos: 41





	Closer

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: “You snuck into my room, at 4am…to cuddle?”

The problem with living in a mostly metal house, was that it was always making sounds—squeaking, scraping and clanking—on the inside and out. Rosie was thankful to have a place to call her own in Megaton, knowing her situation could be far worse and she could be roughing it out in the Wasteland with nothing but a sleeping roll and the clothes on her back. Still, with the storm raging outside, falling asleep was proving difficult.

At first, she stayed up and scrolled through her Pip-Boy, reading through transcribed notes in the hope her eyes would get heavy. When that didn’t work, she rolled onto her side and faced the wall, willing her mind to create some kind of dreamscape that she could fall into. Her thoughts moved to the most recent book Moira had lent her—a pulp-fiction mystery with a heroine that had fallen in love with a mysterious detective. Rosie had just read a particularly raunchy scene before retiring for the evening and now, it was all she could think about as she drifted to sleep. Except now _she_ was the novel’s protagonist, being ravished by a devilishly handsome investigator atop a sturdy desk.

Rosie was deep into her imagination when she heard the faintest sounds of metal floorboards creaking again. She ignored the noises, turning her head further into the pillow—she wasn’t willing to leave her dream behind. Not a moment later, the mattress dipped under the weight of a second body entering the bed but before she could bolt upright, an arm hooked around her waist.

“Shh!” Butch’s sleep-laden voice echoed by her ear. “It’s just me.”

She wriggled in his grasp as he slid under the blankets, glancing over her shoulder to peer at him in the dark. “What are you—”

He hushed her again, snuggling closer to her body. “Was feeling lonely,” he explained, tucking his arm more securely around her. “I just want to cuddle.”

Rosie let out an even breath as she relaxed, still not used to this _sensitive_ side of Butch. Shouldn’t he be there, suggesting the _fool around_ instead? “You snuck into my room, at 4am…to _cuddle_?”

“How do you know what time it is?” he mumbled, breath tickling the back of her neck.

“A guess,” she replied.

While she found it endearing that her boyfriend (a term she would _never_ get used to using) wanted to snuggle, a small part of her was disappointed that there wasn’t something more to his late-night visit. Rosie had gotten used to Butch’s lewdness, and how handsy he could be in the midst of make-out sessions—matter of fact, she had grown to like it. In recent weeks, the thought of taking things further had crossed her mind, but their travels put a pin in her plans. Having him there now, pressed up against her body only reignited those ideas, and her body went warm.

Maybe it was her lucid-dream that had gotten her riled-up and she could ignore the heat crawling across her skin. _No_ —she wanted to kiss Butch, wanted to feel his hands roaming across her skin where they hadn’t before—she just had to be brave and make the first move. But she didn’t want to come off as easy, or desperate. Knowing her, she’d fumble and make a fool of herself like she always did. Rosie was reminded of the heroine from the novel and how she had made the split-second decision to return to the detective’s office before they made love atop his desk.

This was _her_ split-second decision.

With a steady breath, she carefully turned herself around in Butch’s embrace, listening to little sleepy sounds that escaped from him in the process. Facing him, she smiled at the way his hair had reverted back to its unruly, curly state without any styling product. She brushed it away from his forehead, trailing her thumb across the sprinkling of barely-there freckles before settling her palm against his cheek. His arm reflexively tightened around her waist, and she tentatively scooted closer.

“Hmm?” 

Rosie kissed him, softly at first to not startle him, and only increased her pressure when she felt him smiling against her mouth. She slid her hand down from his face to his shoulder and then to his chest where she bunched her fingers into his shirt, daring to make the kiss more passionate. Baring one time, she had never taken the lead and had relied on Butch’s _expertise_. When her tongue swept past his lips to mold against his, she took his appreciative groan as a good sign. Encouraged, she moved her hand to the hem of his shirt and slid her fingers beneath, touching at the warm expanse of his abdomen.

Butch pulled away just a fraction, with a delirious, sleepy grin. “Whatcha up to there, Rosie?”

Heat rose to her face and she decided she couldn’t deal with hearing him speak—not yet—especially when his voice sounded so damn irresistible, all raspy and sleep-ridden. She kissed him again, a little firmer this time, swallowing his surprised gasp and sounds of approval as her hand continued to roam across his chest. His hand shifted along her spine to her hip and Rosie figured he was about to move them and take control of the moment—she wouldn’t let that happen, not when she had initiated.

Rosie slowly drifted her fingers down until they met the band of his boxer shorts and felt his body flinch through the kiss. When he didn’t break away, she continued, ghosting her hand across the front where she could feel heat radiating before finally giving a tentative touch. Butch moaned at the contact, the sound reverberating through their kiss and sending a tingle through her spine straight down to her toes. When she touched him, his hips had twitched forward again, allowing her to feel his growing arousal through the cloth. Rosie had felt it before—strained behind his jeans—but she had never let him know, usually too embarrassed to say or do anything about it. Right now, however, she felt anything but embarrassed. She grasped him with a firmer touch, and he tilted his head away if only to mutter her name against her lips. She repeated the action, fixated on his face and wonderstruck expression as his fingers dug into her waist.

Butch struggled to meet her gaze. Even in the darkness of the room, she could tell his face was flushed with color. “W—what’re you—?”

Even if Rosie wasn’t entirely sure of what she was doing, the sounds he was making, and expressions made her feel like she was doing _something_ right. She wanted to keep going…if he allowed her to. “Do you want me to stop?”

His eyes widened a little from their delirious haze. “N— _no_!” he frowned before correcting to a sideways smile. “I mean…please, don’t.”

Rosie grinned, taking his flustered state as further encouragement. She slowly moved across the fabric of his boxers before hooking her fingers into the band and snuck her hand inside. He sucked in a breath when she took his length into her palm, and almost immediately the reality of the situation hit her—what exactly was she doing? _How did you do this_? —This wasn’t something Mr. Brotch taught in health class, and this _certainly_ wasn’t something she’d ever ask her dad about.

Butch noticed her apprehension, the hand on her hip moving to join hers, angling her fingers to accommodate his arousal better. “Like that,” he breathed, instructing her as he tightened her grip before encouraging her to move. “That feels…”

Rosie focused on his enamored expression as she slowly stroked, hesitating a little when his hand disappeared to return to her waist to grasp her tight. He rested his head against hers, panting as he glanced down at her hand moving beneath the fabric between their bodies. She quickened her pace, excited by the soft groans that repeatedly fell from his lips. His brows were bunched together, like he was in deep concentration—blue eyes piercing as they met hers. On an upstroke, her thumb brushed across the tip and he trembled against her.

“Rosie, I—” Butch loudly whined, mumbling a string of curse words against her mouth as he kissed her in a frenzy, hips snapping up against her hand as he practically pinned her to the bed. She wasn’t sure what had happened until she felt a dampness to her palm and realization sunk in— _oh_.

Rosie felt a strange mix of pride and embarrassment rush through her veins as she lay beneath him, waiting for him to regain his composure. Butch slowly pulled away and she retracted her hand, awkwardly wiping it along the blanket—it was due for a wash anyways. He flopped down beside her, breathless with the goofiest smile she’d ever seen, even in the dim lighting. A large part of her was glad to know her actions were the reason for it. Still…that didn’t solve _her_ predicament, and how she was now even more aroused than before.

He turned his head to look at her, eyebrows raised. “I don’t know where that came from but—”

She tried not to flash him too much of an expectant expression. She only nodded and said nothing in return, desperate to even her own breathing. Butch suddenly looked anxious and shifted along the bed— _away_ from her. He pushed the blankets away as he started to sit up.

“Give me a second, okay?”

Where was he going? Her confidence and smile faltered. “But—it felt good right?”

Butch softly laughed, nodding enthusiastically as he turned back around to kiss her, careful not to lean against her _too_ close. “Baby, you have _no_ idea,” he breathed, nodding again. “Yeah, Rosie. Now, sit pretty. I’ll be right back.”

He left the bed and her room without another word and despite the assurance, she still felt confused—like she had done something wrong. Maybe this was his way of letting her down gently. _Thanks Rosie for the wonderful hand job, except not really, I’m going to sneak off back to Rivet City while you wait up all night for me all hot and bothered_ —

She blinked hard, convincing herself that she wasn’t in the right state of mind and that even a perceived awkward sexual experience wouldn’t be enough to chance Butch away. Right? The longer she stayed there, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the rain outside clang against the metal roof, the worse the tension coiling within her became. Any second and she was going to burst.

“Rosie?”

She nearly yelped, leaning up on one elbow to find him standing near the bed again—he had changed his boxers and discarded his shirt and was placing _something_ on her nightstand. Without her glasses, it was hard to determine what it was. Quickly though, he was back beneath the blanket with her, resting the majority of his weight on one arm as he hovered over her, his other hand angling her chin so he could capture her lips in a kiss. Rosie relaxed against the mattress and reached up to wrap her arms around his shoulders and neck, threading her fingers through his hair as his lips trailed away from her mouth to her ear.

“It’s your turn,” he whispered.

Rosie felt a heat radiate though her body. “Oh.”

Butch nuzzled against her neck, little kisses forming a trail back to her mouth before he pulled away to gaze into her eyes. “Do you want my hands, or my mouth?”

She was stunned into silence, the heat now a flame burning across every inch of her skin, and she felt the urge to clench her thighs as an overwhelming rush of arousal flooded her system. Butch quirked up an eyebrow and smirked, clearly noticing her reaction. She didn’t pull away when he kissed her again, slow and sensual before breaking away. His trail of kisses followed a usual pattern at first—to her neck to form little patterns with his teeth before dipping lower along her collarbone and stretching her shirt to the side to kiss at her shoulder. That’s when the pattern changed and he shifted his body lower, pushing her shirt up to kiss at her stomach and ribs and the underside of each breast.

Butch’s eyes snapped up to lock with hers as he inched her shirt higher. “Can I?”

Rosie inhaled a sharp breath, nodding through the rush of nerves—she didn’t expect him to ask. He slowly inched the fabric higher, his lips following until he was kissing along her sternum, and the valley between her breasts. She shifted, leaning up so he could pull the shirt up and over her head, discarding it over his shoulder. His appreciative groan did nothing to quell her nervousness and on impulse she went to cover herself up.

“Don’t,” Butch stopped her, swatting her hands away. He met her eyes again, reaching up to tuck her hair into place. “You’re a God damn treasure, you know that?”

She felt like melting, but the best she could do was smile, earning one in return. His hand slid to cup one exposed breast and she sighed, fluttering her eyes closed at the sensation. He was surprisingly gentle—through she wasn’t sure _what_ to expect—moaning as his thumb brushed across her nipple. Butch lowered his head back down to kiss across her neck and collar before shifting further down, adjusting his weight so he could run his lips along her breasts. Rosie cried out when he wrapped his lips around a nipple, sucking lightly—the pleasure was a shock to her system she wasn’t anticipating. She gripped the bedsheets, tossing her head to the side as he switched to the other breast, his hand caressing where his mouth wasn’t.

And then, his mouth was gone, and she snapped her eyes open, wondering where he had disappeared to until she felt his lips pressing against her hip and along the hemline of her sleep-shorts. Butch’s scooted even lower, shoulders pushing her knees apart as he made room for himself. He kissed the inside of her thigh, trailing upwards—

“W— _wait_!” she leaned up, grabbing his shoulder to yank him back up from between her legs. Butch shot her a curious look but settled beside her, patiently waiting for an explanation. She huffed out a breath, looking away. “I—I don’t want you to do that,” she explained, knowing her face was bright red. She wasn’t ready to go from zero to sixty in one night. “Not… _yet_.”

Rosie side-eyed him and noticed the pleased grin he sported and had to wonder if he really had the kind of experience that went into what he was _about_ to do. Pushing the thought aside, she began to wonder if everything she had set in motion that evening had been a mistake—what did she even want? Butch carefully hooked his arm around her waist, bringing her closer to him before running his hand in slow sweeps along her side.

“Rosie baby, you gotta tell me what you _do_ want,” he said, though there wasn’t the hint of frustration in his tone. Easy for him, he’d already gotten off. Rosie bit down on her bottom lip hard. “Even if it’s nothing.”

Oh no—not after all she’d been through that night. She looked at him and let go of the breath she’d been holding. “I want you to touch me,” she admitted. “ _Please_.”

A slow grin appeared on his face as he gave a little nod, understanding. “I can do that.”

Butch kissed her, almost too chaste and sweet at first as his hand swept across her cheek and shoulder. Rosie smiled, snaking her arm around his shoulder if only to reassure him—even if she wasn’t sure what she was getting herself into. Instead of touching at her breasts, he rested his hand between her legs, fingers brushing across her clothed core. On impulse she twitched her hips up, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“Eager?”

Rosie couldn’t argue with Butch, even if she tried. When she opened her mouth, the only noise that escaped was a whimper, which only spurred him on. He tugged at her sleep-shorts and she wiggled them down her legs, gasping out when his hand pressed against her again. He kissed at her neck as he scooted closer, fingers finally sliding past the elastic band and straight to her heat.

“You’re so wet,” he rasped against her ear. She’d read about bedroom talk in her books but hadn’t dreamt in a million years she’d be on the receiving end, or that _Butch_ would be the one speaking them to her. Of course, she’d never be able to think of something clever to say in return. Instead, she opted for another moan, which seemed to satisfy him and kept him moving.

He hooked one finger into her opening, dragging the wetness upwards to the sensitive nub she was all too familiar with. He pressed there, running little circles in a rhythm that wasn’t practiced. Just as he had done before, she reached down, covering his hand with her own and realigned his touch. The great thing about Butch was that instead of getting upset at her helping, he took to her directions and within moments her hand fell away as he deftly rubbed her clit until she was lifting her hips off the mattress, fingers bunched into the bedsheets.

He abruptly stopped and she gasped, ready to scold him when he adjusted, fingers two fingers slowly sliding into her heat as his thumb continued where he had left off. The feeling sent an electric shock from her toes to her brain and back down to her feet again, sending her right to the edge almost immediately. When she was alone, it took her so long—but now? It was almost embarrassing how quickly she was ready to come. Maybe because it was somebody else— _Butch_ —and how amazing he felt, pace quickening as he moved to kiss her mouth, swallowing her sighs.

If anything, it was the kiss that sent her spiraling and she wrapped her arms tight around his shoulders, one hand threading through his hair as her orgasm trembled through her body—curling her toes and clenching her thighs around his hand. As she relaxed, he continued kissing her, slowly removing his hand and stretching out beside her. He rolled her to him, and she flinched at the subtle feel of his arousal.

“Butch?”

He laughed, pulling away to gaze at her. “Don’t worry, the lil’ guy is just happy to have pleased his best gal.”

She raised an eyebrow, resisting the urge to laugh. “Lil’ guy?”

He blanched. “You—you know what I mean,” he cleared his throat. “Plus, you’ve handled the goods. It ain’t little.”

“I mean—” she started to tease but was cut off by another kiss.

When they broke away, she settled her head against his shoulder, wrapping her arm around his torso. Rosie was content to let the sound of his heartbeat lull her to sleep when she remembered.

“What did you put on my nightstand?”

The hand running circles on her back stilled and she tilted her chin up to look at him. It must’ve been closer to sunrise than she thought because it was easier to see his expression now.

“Promise not to get mad,” Butch mumbled. Mad? Why would she get mad? “I thought…well, I thought after earlier we might… _ya’ know_ ,” his eyes shifted back and forth, but she was still lost. His lips flatted into a thin line. “I brought a condom.”

She was more confused than anything. “Where did you find condoms?”

“From the vault?” he groaned, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. “Unlike you, I had some time to pack up some belongings before leaving.”

Rosie didn’t let the comment offend her. She playfully pushed him in the shoulder. “How much sex did you think you were going to be having?”

He shrugged, and at least had the decency to look guilty. “That was back when I thought I’d be hoofin’ it alone, strolling from one town to the next.”

“Having sex with strange women?” she asked, still judging his past decisions.

Butch nervously laughed. “Never thought I’d settle down and be a one-gal kind of guy.”

Rosie blushed, and thought about complimenting his foresight. Without even thinking of the implications, she asked, “What happens when we run out?”

“Are you saying there’s gonna be a time when we run out?” he asked, trying not to sound overly eager.

She coyly smiled. “Maybe.”

**Author's Note:**

> So like, I'm still on the fence on if condoms exsist in post-war Fallout but like, come on. Safe sex still needs to happen in the Wasteland, so *hand-wave*. 
> 
> say hello over on tumblr @ eeveevie
> 
> kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


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